Page 52 of One Snowy Day
For a second, Georgie wondered what Helena’s reaction would be. Being a lawyer must be like being a doctor, she imagined. As soon as people at dinner parties knew what you did, they wanted to ask your advice on their speeding ticket or their piles.
She needn’t have worried. The lawyer and the feminist in Helena had never yet refused her niece, or any woman in legal jeopardy, even while at a party with a drink in her hand. ‘Of course, I will, but I’m expensive. You may have to come intern for me all summer to pay me back.’
Kayleigh’s beaming grin made it clear that wouldn’t be a hardship.
Just as Helena left, the song changed and the crowd cheered as Moira broke into ‘I’m in the Mood for Dancing’ by the Nolans, and Georgie and Eve were treated to the incomparable sight of Aunt Cathy boogying towards them. ‘Right, you two – my Richie’s back is playing up and this is one of my favourite songs, so who’s dancing with me?’
‘If you don’t take this one, I’ll talk about your mother’s one-night stand again,’ Georgie warned Eve, who capitulated immediately, giggling, ‘Right, Gran, let’s do it,’ as they danced off.
Georgie was about to go mingle, when she saw that Dorinda Canavan was still chatting to her dad and there was something about his pained expression that made her feel sorry for him. Dad hated things like this. Mum was the social butterfly, and Dad was the one who was happier out on the golf course, being unbothered by anyone, especially someone as full-on as Dorinda. Dad probably didn’t even have a clue who she was, and he’d definitely have run out of small talk by now. There was nothing else for it than to be the social equivalent of a SWAT team. In. Rescue. Out.
She sidled over. ‘Hi, Dorinda! Sorry to barge in, but can I havea quick word with my dad? Just need to organise Mum’s birthday cake.’
The rude cow didn’t look too happy, but she took the hint and left them anyway.
‘You’re welcome, Dad,’ Georgie said with a wink. ‘You looked like you needed saving.’
She’d thought that her dad would have found that amusing, but he was still strangely sullen-faced, as he muttered, ‘Thanks, love.’
Something was off. ‘Are you okay, Dad? Oh God, tell me Mum hasn’t changed her mind about going because I got that job offer? I’ve already told her I turned it down.’
To her relief, he clearly had no idea what she was talking about. ‘She never mentioned a job offer to me,’ he said. ‘Truth is though, love, she didn’t want to go to Tenerife in the first place. She’s only coming because I wanted it.’
The conversation had definitely taken a turn she hadn’t expected, but she swallowed her shock and attempted to set him straight.
‘Dad! That’s not true. Mum is looking forward to it and she’ll be happy anywhere if you’re there.’
‘I’m not so sure about that.’
Georgie opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words to reply. This was so out of character, that Georgie was stumped. Her mum and dad had always been the happiest, most solid couple that she knew. What was going on?
‘Why would you say that? You’re a great husband. A brilliant dad too. Of course Mum is happy.’
‘No, love. I’ve not always been the best husband.’
Oh lord, her solid, dependable, steady dad was in full crisis here. Had someone spiked his drink? Did men go through some version of the menopause?
‘But, Dad…’
She didn’t get the rest of that out, because her mum swooped in from behind her.
‘Stan, can I have a quick word with you outside? Sorry, Georgie – I’ll just steal him for a minute.’ Curt. Serious. Taking no objections.
Before Georgie could reply, off they went, leaving her speechless.
What. Just. Happened? Mum had seemed pretty pissed off with something, and she just hoped it wasn’t her. No. That wasn’t her mum’s style. If Jessie McLean was annoyed with you, she told you directly to your face. She had no idea what Dad had done, or why he was so miserable, but if there was one person who would have the gossip…
Georgie cast a glance around the room searching for Grant, until she spotted him at the edge of the dance area, twirling Val around. In Aunt Cathy style, she shuffled over towards them, but as she got there, the Nolans took a break and were replaced by Whitney Houston declaring that she wanted to dance with somebody.
Val conceded defeat. ‘Grant, son, I can’t do two fast songs in a row without hydrating, so I’m away for a Porn Star Martini,’ she announced, heading off in the direction of the bar. Georgie took advantage of the moment, grabbing Grant’s hand and leading him over to a quieter spot by the door. Lovely old Mrs Dawson and her equally sweet sister were sitting there, multi-tasking by tapping their feet in time to the music, smiling as they watched the dancers, and knitting furiously with hands that seemed to work independently of the rest of their bodies. Mrs Dawson appeared to be knitting a scarf that would fit around an elephant, one that liked a bright pink woolly number that stretched for miles.
Georgie knew from their visits to the salon that they were both extremely hard of hearing and couldn’t pick up the din of a brass band unless it was playing in their living room, so she wasn’t worried about them listening in.
‘What’s going on with Mum and Dad? Dad said something about not always being a good husband and now Mum just came and swept him off and she’s got a face like thunder.’
Grant shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. Genuinely. But I have to say, I’d forgotten what life was like in this family. I work in a frantically busy Kensington salon, employ thirty-five people, tend to the demands of more divas than I can count, and I still think there’s more drama going on up here. Talking of which, tell me you’re not getting back with Flynn.’
‘I’m not getting back with Flynn,’ she repeated.
